


what you want to see

by epistaxiophilia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Biting, Blood, Crying, Dubious Consent, Other, Shapeshifting, but the crying is unrelated to the sex, saix/lea and saix/isa mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 03:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistaxiophilia/pseuds/epistaxiophilia
Summary: some emotionless nobody you are, saix.





	what you want to see

**Author's Note:**

> sometime between ddd and kh3.

‘Teach this for me. And do not destroy it- it is needed.’ Him? Of all the people to give this _thing_ to- to have it copy _him. _He doesn’t completely remember why he’s tormented by its existence- but it feels related to his traitor ‘friend’, and suppose its placed under his wing to remind him of his internal misplaced loyalty. It only takes a moment of scrutiny under Xemnas’ golden gaze to set Saix’s mind right again, adverting his gaze down to the hooded Replica now at, under his heel.

To its, or rather ‘her’ credit as Saix folds to deign her pronouns, she lacks any kind of personal agency to disrupt his personal workflow, stays silent at near all times, never removing her hood- only granting him a flash of those golden hues beneath the lip of her hood. At first, the replica fights through heartless with an equally replicated keyblade that Saix doesn’t have the effort to question- but some weeks in, replaced in her grasp, the Lunatic- or, a copy of it.

“So you do your task well.” Beneath her hood as well, he swears he catches the glimpse of blue strands across a sweat exerted face.

He makes the mistake of letting it get too personal in their excessive downtime. Not the kind to take his ‘friend’ to clocktower heights or warm beaches for ice cream, Xion finds herself propped up on his hips, idly letting him run his hands up her warm, unclothed body. Not the first time he’s seen her without her jacket now, or the first time she’s ‘let’ him enjoy her, her vacant gaze lists to the side, bemused with this transaction of flesh. But it keeps Saix placated, makes him more reliable and calm for missions in the following days- and keeping him that seems advised; and so she does, let him enjoy himself, even if he never seems to sound like he does. Rough in his throat, a sneer pulling his lips in distaste as he runs his mouth across a collar bone. Distantly, when she calls for an opinion from her heart, it does not answer- for it is elsewhere- but that implanted piece of dark imbued_ parasite_ tells her this is fine, and feels fine enough.

Teeth sink into the hollow skin of her neck, worrying away at the flesh there till bruises welt up from beneath, a shiver rushing down her spine from the sensation of pricking canines welling blood. Her own hands find firm placement at his chest, digging in nails, but he’s too occupied to care, even as she draws her own lines of red down scarred skin.

Close to him physically, but unlike the last few times he’s placated himself with her, there’s a mental connection between them as well that shares memory and feeling. Like when she uses that blistering rage to summon her copied claymore to decimate their enemies, she has nothing to spur her on herself. Saix, however, in an endless fountain of suffering, she finds, and as she feels for his memory now…. As the transfer cements in her programming, she becomes that what she is meant to emulate. A soft sigh as he moves to readjust his hands, eyes clamped shut as he wanders for more skin to bruise, but things change beneath his palms in the proverbial blink of an eye.

Then in confusion, he opens his gaze to meet up with hers with a low rasp in his throat. Or rather, his. His own eyes- distantly, at least. Smaller to fit her frame, and a piece of him long since forgotten, the memory store deep within himself, those Xehanort golden eyes replaced with a bright cyan. Her head tilts curiously to one side at his change in demeanor, expression flat and vacant beyond the red still risen on her cheeks from the prior stimulation- from on her ‘side’ of seeing, she comprehends no physical change to herself. She looks how one thinks they should see her to look, and recalling her own memories, ‘feels’ still Xion. However, projecting her copied memories in their soft, skin touched connection, Saix stares up at ‘Isa in hesitant disgust.

Not that she has the feeling to take that disgust to heart. Instead, a soft voice- still entirely hers, even to Saix’s ears, “What do you see,” hands still perched on his chest, she finds a mote to tease him, a thumb rubbing over a previously inflicted welt.

Scoffing, he can’t help but still run his eager hands up the length of her torso, up to the now flat aspects of her chest, unfamiliar in the memory of his old form, “Nothing.”

A soft exhale, nearly a laugh, and she tilts her head down to his grabbing hands, opens her mouth as a thumb runs across her lips to let the digit inside; Saix plies down her tongue to look over her teeth, and the pointed canines beneath. Staring long at her face, but when he catches himself up in the thought of his own face, Isa’s reflection cracks at the center, that long unfamiliar familiar scar etching itself in as he can not aptly recall having never had it. Xion does feel that, nose wrinkling and eyes lidding beneath the strain as the final connection brings that controlled rage into her body, sighing softly, and she contentedly licks over his offending digits still lingering in her mouth. Eyes opening once again to those golden, infected hues. Grinding her hips down onto his, she plays to that still half-hard cock of his between the padding of her ass.

As he frees her mouth, wiping the saliva down her chest, “I am what you want to see.”

Setting both hands on her hips now, and eagerly, begrudgingly pressing up into her downward insistence, “I disagree.”

“You can’t disagree with your memory,” she hums, leaning back down and snagging a lick of his nose, lips- which earns her a rumbling and teeth snapping at her skin. A saliva wet hand slinks down between her legs, and he slips up inside her, having already been haphazardly fucking earlier before being rudely interrupted by her shifting Replica form. Holding her there firmly with nails digging into the soft skin of her hips, it is less unappealing to fuck into, well… himself, than he was expecting. But is it what he ‘wants’?

Again, his mouth wanders over the skin of her body, lifting her off his cock and craning himself to taste up her chest, a bite to her nipple that sends that pained shiver up her spine again, but relishing in the contact. Converting, the previous bites find themselves washed away in the new form, but Saix is more than eager to reclaim her marks, on himself now, destroying himself again. Content for any form of feeling towards herself, be it friendship or this obsessive clinging, Xion is more than happy to oblige his cravings- and having been born of war and fighting, pain this negligible to her is well below anything but mindless sensation that sends shocks numbing down her legs alongside shafts that finds itself up inside once again.

But is this what he_ wants_. Hating, destroying his old, weak self is something both secret and well known to those around him, nothing he speaks of but can not hide. To have Isa in his grasp, roughly fucking him, clawing cries of pain and pleasure with each ramming pressure that hilts deep inside. Each hand that drags itself bleeding lines into the skin of her back, each pressure of teeth that finds those bruises again welting under her skin. But is this what I want? He can’t stop thinking about what he wants, and sinks into the memory of who he might rather prefer crying in his grasp.

The change that overtakes her again is minimal to the point Saix doesn’t even open his eyes to question when she grows silent to accept the feeling of forced memory that once again washes over her- but she knows he needs to see this, he’s summoned even unconsciously a desperate bid for desire- the audacity of her to place a hand over his face and push him backward with great effort, lifting up her hips to deny his cock full hilt. Snapping at her fingers- but his eyes open again, and any motion beneath her shudders to a deafening stop. “What do you want to see?” She warbles down to him, settling back down on his hips.

Still smaller to fit her frame, a young Lea looks down at him, wearing only the newest of bruises Saix had nipped into her skin and gripped into her thighs. A soft smile wore across her replicated face, and a warm heat that overtakes her hands as she instead takes a turn to drag herself down Saix’s chest. If this is what he wants. Something about this memory feels nice- nicer than Saix’s rage, and he thinks whomever she looks like might enjoy looking back down to him.

But Saix doesn’t accept his subconscious begging- hands still gripped to her hips push off this new frame from his, roughly forcing her off the bed, but not so much that she’s toppling to the side. Standing there, a mote of dejection in her tone, “Then why did you ask..?”

Still hard and nearly gotten off, Saix roughly and unsuccessfully attempts to tuck himself back away sneering at her, “I didn’t-“

“Maybe not you, but your memory did. You should treat your memory more kindly, since you have it.”

Covering his face with a wet palm, he struggles to wipe sweated bangs from his eyes, “What, because I have mine, and you do not?” They both know well now that she never had ‘her own’ memories- only those copies to pick apart for its most useful bits.

“Yes.”

Looking back over to her- it’s still Lea, and she still wears his familiar soft smile, a hand wandering between her own legs in subconscious, wanton itch. When Saix blinks, however, it’s ‘him’ again, Isa, even without the scar across her face- but those marks that litter her body from his claws and his teeth, ruining swathes of ivory skin in welting bruises and weeps of replicated blood. Ruining myself. Isa’s expression is vacant, lips flat and unamused. A pang of loneliness and regret weep up from his broken, fake heart, and with a sudden turn of emotion, Saix ducks his head pitifully, leaning back towards her and reaching for her again. Allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist, his fingers fit in the familiar hollows of her body with more gentle touch. Creaking, “Please look like him again.”

“I don’t know what I look like,” she hums back at him, nearly mockingly, looking down at his pitiful display of sadness. What kind of nobody was he now. _Not_ one, she thinks, and gently wraps her fingers into his hair, humming softly as he pets away his worry. There there, you blubbering baby.

Saix thinks again fondly for Lea.

And when his wet eyes open again, he looks up to see him, smiling softly down. Still letting herself be touched and used, Saix pulls her beneath him instead, looming over top and looking down at her near spotless form. A few nicks and tears from overzealous playfighting in their youth, but before all this, the two of them were just boys- the hand not holding his weight to the side of her head wanders down her chest again, idling across those parts of Lea’s body he commits to memory. Alongside, Saix’s marred, battle-scarred form paints their hard life very well, but he can only wonder how Axel looks now. Running a hand down her side- and a memory perks from him as a hard, deathly scar builds beneath his touch to the left side of her ribs.

Leaning down to find her lips again, Xion notes a complete change in demeanor, suddenly much preferring this form she’s accidentally taken. Closing her eyes, she enjoys the taste of his softer mouth, the blood still lingering in his saliva telling of the pain that sets to wrack the layers of her frame for the rest of the week. A worthwhile expenditure, just for a taste of being wanted, and remembered, even if it was remembering someone else. Penetrated again, he takes the time to wring out their pleasure, even deigning a hand to wrap around her own neglected self to pump alongside the thrusting of his hips. Fucking her imitation into the mattress, though her voice never changing from that high-lilted femininity. He’s forced to keep his eyes open and on her, on Lea, but its easier now that he doesn’t feel like biting her further, keeping his memory of Lea pure beyond the pleasure-drunk face she’s making with his visage, each slap of skin sending pangs of sensation up her legs and between. At this rate, she’ll cum before he does, having been completely unused to receiving such gentle attention- she reaches up to cling to his face affectionately, the other hand wringing into the fabric of the sheets beneath her as she spills imitated seed in thick ropes that pool in the crux of her bellybutton. Overstimulated from that- but Saix is not done. While he is softer to her current imitation, Saix straightens his back, wrapping a firm grip around her thighs, and to spend himself, rocks himself hard into her already wasted self. It drags a weary expression of pleasure from her already tired self, creaks hoarse from her throat as a tongue lolls out over her teeth. Begging for him to be done- but seeing his old, lost friend so pleasured and heated beneath him has Saix riled. He knows well enough, unfortunately, he can’t linger on the feeling, already worrying that self-doubt for deserving the right to enjoy Lea’s body now with what he’s done, and with a few last stuttering thrusts, climaxes hard and deep inside her.

Unfortunately, his mind catches itself too tired, too emotionally exerted, and though each jolt of climax has him physically satiated, he’s bisected when those emotion spill out like bile; leaning down over her, she blinks in confusion when Saix uncharacteristically sputters out sobs. Craning her neck to the side to spy this, because perhaps she’s hearing it wrong- but no, he’s weeping uncontrollably, barely muttering his lost friend's name between each hoarse sob. Still amusing herself with ‘playing’ the role of this, even with her own voice, though breathing still laboured, she reaches up with a hand to loosely weave into the long hair behind his ears, “Aww, don’t be like that.” She uses the known tone to the best of her ability- and it does catch Saix for a loop in his emotional backfiring. Snuffling down to her face, she reciprocates a few choice little pecks to the base of his jaw- but like a cat, he snaps back to reality, near literally with teeth a bare millimeter from marring the skin of her cheek when they clack together.

Rumbling, he lifts his weight up and away from her, sitting up on his thighs- but he’s still actively crying, “Don’t _do that_.” Looking down, she still looks like an over-sexed Lea, arms tucked close to her chest.

Shrugging, “but you’re enjoying yourself.”

Wiping off his face to no avail, as his eyes replace the wet tears flooding his face eagerly, “Does this look like I’m enjoying myself?”

With a readjustment of her hips, his dwindling self slips from her with an audible shudder from them both. Her face wrinkling in discomfort at the sudden feeling of vacancy, and then down to her belly where her climax pools and dries. She looks back up to him from that- and he’s still staring with wide eyed occupation, she only assume she still looks like that name he was warbling earlier, “Some nobody you are, Isa, crying your heart out,” she near cruelly uses his old name to taunt his memory. Still overwhelmed, he hisses down to her, baring his teeth in warning- but shifting down the bed, he folds over to lick clean her belly, hands finding her wrists to push her down into the mattress to avoiding wiggling, where there is a bit of. A laugh creeping from her throat when it tickles. She can’t help but ask now, “who’s Lea, huh.”

Finally abating his tears, Saix licks over his teeth from the taste of cum fresh on his tongue. “A traitor. Someone who has abandoned us both.”

“Oh,” she sighs, eyes drifting to the roof. When Saix looks back to her, he blinks, her form flicking to Isa, and then with one more close of his eyes, to ‘herself’, that failed imitation of Kairi. Wearing well those bruises and wounds she never stopped feeling despite not showing them. “Should_ I_ remember him?”

There’s a long moment of silence as he looks over those injuries he’s caused, a sinking feeling of regret in his core. “… Maybe you will, one day. If you find your heart.”

A hand raises to her chest, pressing palm to it over the hollow where a heart might go. Quietly, “I don’t have a heart.” But in that, she doesn’t feel sadness to the thought. Her parasite would rather her true heart be gone as well, so it does not deign her to care.

Spent and weary, however, Saix settles into a habit she’s more familiar with, which is pushing himself to the furthest edge of his bed, pressed into the wall, and rumbling into sleep. At least, he’s never kicked her off the bed, allowing her that opposite edge and draping limbs over to expend some of the heated energy from her core. Tonight was longer than usual, and it comes with being more exhausted afterward, but infinitely more pleased. Not just sexually, though that was bonus, but emotionally- to be wanted, even if it was due to her imitation. It was what she was built for. Molded and created to be what is wanted.


End file.
